


see you on the night side

by Sholio



Category: Captain America (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Steve makes a strangled sound. "What the -- What is </i>that?"</p><p><i>"It's a Reznor," Bucky says. "</i>The<i> Reznor? Possibly its name is Reznor."</i></p><p>
  <i>"You know what? I think I don't actually want to know." </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or: Tag scene for <i>Bucky Barnes: The Winter Soldier #1</i>. 616 comicsverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see you on the night side

**Author's Note:**

> This spoils developments in both the new _Bucky Barnes: Winter Soldier_ series and _Captain America #25_ , and I know every last bit of it will be jossed, but I couldn't help myself. For my h/c bingo square "skeletons in the closet".

Daisy is sitting on a window ledge beside his bed, reading a book, when Bucky wakes up feeling like ten different kinds of shit. He's on the satellite, he can tell; there's something about artificial gravity that feels different from regular gravity. Also, the luminous curve of the Earth behind Daisy's head is a dead giveaway.

He's lying on his stomach, and when he tries moving, the unpleasant tug between his shoulder blades goes all the way down into his chest, so he decides not to do that again. At least not for a while. The last thing he remembers is the punch of impact and the sharp pain racing down his spine, the realization he'd been shot -- and then darkness.

"How long was I out?" His voice rasps, throat so dry it aches.

"Not that long, all things considered." Daisy sets a bookmark between the pages of the book she's reading -- a beat-up old copy of the U.S. Army survival manual -- before looking up. "There's a lot of really fascinating, highly advanced medical equipment on this satellite. Almost like the person who used to live here had to patch himself up all the time. I don't know how to use all of it, but I was able to figure out the important stuff."

Bucky snorts. Someone, who pretty much had to be Daisy by the process of elimination, thoughtfully left a cup of water beside his bed. It tastes faintly of metal -- everything on the station does -- but eases his dry throat somewhat.

"Think you can eat something yet?"

"I guess so." He tries tentatively moving his limbs. Everything seems to respond normally: legs and right arm and prosthesis. He can't help giving her a lopsided grin. "I thought you said you weren't going to cook for me."

"I'm not," Daisy says. "Rogers is."

It takes a minute for that to sink in, and then Bucky lets his head drop back down onto his pillow, facefirst. "Steve's here. Why is Steve here? Why the hell did you call _Steve?_ Did I do something to piss you off?"

" _I_ didn't," Daisy says tartly. "Namor called him to pick you up. God knows why."

Whether or not God knows, Bucky certainly does. Namor's a friend; he is not, however, the kind of friend who wants to deal with a bleeding almost-corpse in his backyard. Namor must have figured that Steve, as one of their few mutual friends and Bucky's old mentor, would handle things. Which wouldn't be a bad call under most circumstances. Namor, however, doesn't give a damn about land-dwellers' politics, the fact that Bucky is supposed to be dead, or the complicating issue that Steve doesn't (didn't) know about the Man Who Guards the Wall business.

"How much have you told him?"

Daisy shakes her head. "Not much. Only what I had to. He's not stupid, though, Bucky."

"Yeah, that's why I didn't want him here in the first pl--"

"I told you to call me when he was awake." Voice from the doorway -- and yeah, he'd know that voice anywhere, even facedown in his pillow and high on alien painkillers. Bucky grits his teeth. 

"He just woke up," Daisy says. "At least, this is the first time he's been properly awake rather than deliriously mumbling. I don't recall this sort of thing being in my job description."

Steve's grin is audible in his tone. "You used to run SHIELD. You know how much credence to put in job descriptions."

It's definitely Steve's voice, but ... there's something different about it, too. A hoarser note than Bucky's used to. That, and the odd cadence of Steve's footsteps -- slow, dragging, with a tapping as of a .... cane? -- makes him lift his head off the pillow and look around.

He manages not to stare -- much -- but it takes him a minute to find his voice and say, "Daisy, I think your definition of _Not that long_ is a little different from mine."

This startles a laugh out of Steve. "It's not you, it's me. Long story. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot in the back," Bucky says. "You two have any idea who did it?"

Daisy and Steve share a look, seasoned with tension, and Steve says, "We might have some leads. We can get into that after we eat. Stew's ready in the mess, Daisy."

"Thank God, I'm starving." Daisy slides off the window ledge and vanishes.

"I make a great Irish potato stew," Steve says. "It's just about the only thing I _could_ make from the few ingredients you have that I actually recognized."

"Yeah, I've been getting into Skrull food lately. It's a thing." He has to stop talking because he realizes he's on the edge of apologizing, and the worst part is, he doesn't even know for what. Steve always seems to have that effect on him -- putting him off guard, shoving him back into the role of _kid sidekick_ (even though he knows, _knows_ he never really was that anyway), making him question his choice and apologize for his decisions. And, fuck it, he knows he's made enough bad ones, and maybe this is one of them (it _did_ lead to him getting shot in the back within weeks of taking the job, after all) but it's _his_ choice and Steve doesn't have any business coming up to _Bucky's_ very own space station and .... being Steve all around the place.

Fuck Namor anyway. See if Bucky does _him_ any more favors.

He also feels vaguely guilty for not sitting up like a decent host, but hell with it, Steve invited _himself_ here and he can just deal with talking to Bucky at this angle. Besides, looking at him rightside up is too bizarre right now.

It's possible that Steve isn't really sure what to say either, because Daisy's departure leaves an uncomfortable silence that grows longer, until it's broken by something rustling in a purposeful kind of way under the bed. A moment later, Bucky feels the tug of claws on the bedcovers, a small weight pulling them down on one side before landing atop the bed. It will never cease to amaze him how something that resembles nothing so much as a wrinkled potato with a head can _climb_ like it does.

Steve makes a strangled sound. "What the -- What is _that?"_

"It's a Reznor," Bucky says. " _The_ Reznor? Possibly its name is Reznor."

"You know what? I think I don't actually want to know." 

The Reznor settles down next to Bucky's hip, making a contented humming sound. "Probably a wise choice," Bucky says, reaching down to scratch its head. "So what the hell happened to you, anyway?"

"To make a long story as short as possible," Steve says, "the serum stopped working."

Something cold goes through Bucky's chest. "Spontaneously?"

"It had help."

"Well, that figures." He laughs suddenly, surprising himself. "You know, between you and Fury, you're giving me some cause for concern here. Is this my future I'm looking at?"

"Not _yet,_ I hope." Steve locates a chair, removes the random selection of weapons and ammo from Bucky's standard arsenal that was being stored there, and drags it over to the bed. The way he moves is ... off. Bucky knows Steve's body language as well as he knows his own -- the power and grace that sometimes makes him think of a tiger or a wolf, some sort of wild creature. And it's _almost_ there, but not quite -- like Steve has the muscle memory of it, but his body is too sore, too tired, too _human_ to do it anymore.

"Is it permanent?" Bucky asks before he can help himself.

Steve's face shadows briefly. "Too early to know for sure. There are options I'm looking into."

"Sorry to pull you away from all of that."

Steve's quick grin is still all Steve. "Yeah, by getting shot. Damned inconsiderate of you. Warn a guy next time."

Bucky flips him off with the metal hand. This just makes Steve grin wider. As much as Bucky doesn't want him on the satellite, doesn't want him within a hundred thousand miles of _any_ of the shit Bucky's hip-deep in now, it _is_ good to see him again.

"Are you still doing the ..." Bucky starts to mime throwing the shield, but the sore place between his shoulder blades reminds him emphatically why that's not a good idea right now. "Hero thing. Considering."

"I take it you haven't been watching the news."

"No cable. Had other things on my mind anyway. You retired, then?"

"Not exactly," Steve says. "I'm still mission control, still with the Avengers, but the action-hero part might be a bit tricky at the moment. I passed the shield to Sam. The Captain America name, too. For now."

Bucky'd almost stopped missing Sam. Almost. Now there's a twinge like the ache of a long-ago broken bone. "Sam's good. He'll do well."

"He will," Steve says. "And I _still_ think you should tell him."

It's an old argument between them now, long since worn down to smooth familiarity. "That I'm alive? No. The fewer people who know --"

"Buck, at this point, half the superhero world knows you're not dead."

"He's got a point," Daisy says, coming back into the room. "It's the worst-kept secret of all time and you know it." She sets down a tray at Bucky's bedside with three bowls on it.

"You're both exaggerating," Bucky mutters, pushing himself upright and shrugging off Steve's attempt to give him a hand. The Reznor chatters unhappily when he tries to move it, settling down only when Steve -- looking wary but determined -- reaches out and rubs it behind the ears. It hums happily and relaxes into his hand.

Of course it likes Steve. Everybody likes Steve.

On the other hand, Steve actually _can_ cook, come to find out, so maybe he can stick around. For now. They eat in silence for the most part, Daisy sitting cross-legged on the end of Bucky's bed. The Reznor has transferred its allegiance entirely to Steve now, the traitorous little bastard, and curls up in his lap.

Finally Steve sets aside his empty bowl and rests a hand on the animal's back, age-knotted fingers curling over its warm wrinkled skin. "Bucky, I'm not going to ask --"

"Good," Bucky says. "Don't."

Steve sighs. "You know, you don't _have_ to do this. Be the guy in the shadows. You have other options."

"The guy in the shadows is who I am, Cap. It's who I've always been. You know that."

"I tried, Rogers," Daisy says, licking off her spoon. "You aren't going to get through to him. And, honestly, I think he's right. There are things that someone's got to do. Might as well be us doing it." She smiles faintly. "I've read your file. I'd think you'd know all about taking on responsibilities you don't want. About doing things for the greater good that keep you up at night."

Steve's jaw clenches, and tension draws tight in the air between the three of them. However much of it Steve knows, or has figured out .... Bucky is aware that the entire concept of what he's doing now flies in the face of everything Steve's always stood for. But Bucky's always been _that guy_ \-- he was that guy in World War II, and he's that guy now: the one who makes it possible for Captain America to be the guy _he_ is. And he's pretty sure Steve's always known that, even if he won't admit it.

They're dark and light sides of a coin. They always have been.

 _Have you ever had a chance to just sit down and figure out what you really want to do?_ Daisy's words to him at the start of all of this.

And Steve: _You don't have to be the guy in the shadows._

It's not that easy, though. Bucky isn't sure what's waiting for him at the end of this road, but he does know it's not a road Steve can walk with him, even if Bucky was willing to let him try. Which he's not. They were partners once, but he can't rewind time and he doesn't want to. They have their own lives now.

Still. No matter what happens, their roads always seem to keep curving back and running into each other. And he's not entirely sure he minds it.

"So," Bucky says, and they both look at him. "You think you might have some leads on who shot me. Let's get on it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [on tumblr](http://laylainalaska.tumblr.com) and have a fic announcement tumblr at [sholiofic](http://sholiofic.tumblr.com). I also hang around quite a bit on [LJ](http://sholio.livejournal.com)/[DW](http://sholio.dreamwidth.org).


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